


Press Your Advantage (and Never Retreat)

by dreamlittleyo



Series: Flippant 'Verse [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Bonding, Confessions, Confusion, Intimacy, M/M, Mind Meld, Misunderstandings, Telepathic Bond, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, Wordcount: Over 1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there are mind melds and explanations, but Kirk still thinks he's missing something.<br/>(Prompt: <a href="http://dreamlittlelion.livejournal.com/13542.html">Press</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Press Your Advantage (and Never Retreat)

Considering how much luck he's had getting answers so far, Kirk honestly thinks he's going to have to hunt Spock down and force the issue. Not that he thinks Spock will deliberately avoid him; they both know this conversation has waited long enough. But so far their timing has been so terrible, every opportunity botched by crisis or circumstance, that Kirk starts bracing himself to show up on Spock's doorstep in the middle of the night and demand they finish this.

He doesn't get the chance. The morning Bones discharges him from sickbay, Kirk finds Spock waiting outside his quarters as if somehow he simply _knew_.

Maybe he did. They both know a lot of things they shouldn't lately.

Kirk's only greeting is a nod, which Spock returns in kind. The keypad beeps loudly in the empty corridor, and as the door hisses open Kirk gestures Spock into his quarters. 

"Can I get you anything, Commander?" The door slides closed behind them, and Kirk taps the panel beside it to raise the lights. In the increased brightness he reads tension in Spock's stance—though he can't be sure he's really seeing it and not simply projecting his own uncertainty onto his first officer's shoulders. He had too much time to _think_ in sickbay, and he's all too aware of his many unanswered questions.

"No. Thank you, Captain." 

Spock stands at stiff attention, and Kirk wants to tell him to ease up. He's making Kirk's quarters seem even more cramped than usual—and spacious as they are compared to the normal crew barracks, they're still more like a couple of large closets than a proper room. Narrow bed along one wall, even narrower couch against the other. Kirk considers his options and finally settles on the edge of his bunk.

"Sit," he orders, gesturing in front of him at the empty couch. Most days there would be discarded socks and tomorrow's duty roster and a dozen other things scattered across the piece of furniture, but Kirk had a fit of tidying between the last couple crises and he's glad of it now. Somehow it's easier to face down Spock—not to mention his own confusion—in clean quarters.

Spock sits stiffly, clasping his hands atop his knees and regarding Kirk with unaccustomed wariness. Apparently Spock expects _him_ to start this conversation, and Kirk tries not to be resentful. As far as he's concerned, it's Spock's turn this time.

But Spock isn't talking, and Kirk scrubs a hand back through his hair with a sigh.

"Fine. Where did we leave off?" Kirk's memory is a little blurry—he _was_ bleeding out at the time—but he's pretty sure he's still got the gist of it. "Right. You were going to explain about all this... what was the word you used? Stimuli?" 

"Yes." There's nothing overtly different about Spock's tone, but Kirk can still tell (and maybe this is just another symptom of their problem) that Spock is deeply discomfited. 

"So go on," Kirk presses. "Explain."

Spock takes his time gathering his thoughts, but Kirk can tell it isn't a stalling tactic. He watches his first officer with a façade of calm, deliberately banking any hint of impatience. Spock's eyes are distant, his posture straight. Eventually his attention returns to Kirk, and his focus is sharp and piercing.

"The first time I initiated a mind meld with you was seven months, three weeks and four days ago," Spock informs him, and Kirk can almost see the calculations running in his eyes, the hours, minutes, maybe even seconds. Precise Vulcan time sense. He doesn't interrupt, and Spock continues, "We have shared three separate melds since then, each of them in... unconventional circumstances." 

Kirk nods. He remembers most of them well enough. It's a little alarming how often the Enterprise runs into situations so bizarre Starfleet regulations don't come close to covering them. Mind control, robotic replicas, technology capable of transferring a sentient mind into a completely separate body... He's had Spock in his head enough times it's almost beginning to seem routine, and he wonders if that's where this is going. Is that how Vulcan mind melds work, repeated exposure leading to crossed wires and a more stubborn connection?

It seems unlikely. Surely he'd have heard _something_ if it were a common occurrence.

"How much do you remember about the most recent incident?" Spock asks, voice soft and posture losing a fraction of its rigid formality. 

"Pretty much squat," Kirk admits. Because that last time, that one's the exception, the time he wasn't conscious, wasn't really _there_ to invite Spock into his mind in the first place. He's grateful as hell that Spock went in anyway. "I don't really remember _anything_ between getting zapped by the monolith and waking up in sickbay." 

"You were comatose for two-point-five days."

"Yeah. Believe it or not, I _did_ read your report." Kirk says it gently, but some of his impatience still bleeds through. There is a point here, and Spock is getting to it—Vulcans don't tend to beat around the bush—but Kirk is still in the dark, and he's getting more sick of it with every passing second.

"When Dr. McCoy asked me to attempt a mind meld, I was initially hesitant. Advanced medical procedures had already failed to revive you, and I feared that a meld deep enough to recover your consciousness might cause unforeseen harm."

"But it didn't," Kirk protests. "Spock, I'm fine. And I'm grateful. Big fan of _not_ being in a coma. Really. I appreciate what you did."

Spock arches an eyebrow at him, wordlessly chastising him for interrupting—which, okay, fair enough, interrupting isn't getting him answers any faster. But he hates the idea that Spock might feel _guilty_ for coming in to get him. It's a thought Kirk can't abide.

"My misgivings were not entirely unfounded, Captain. In order to revive you, I had to form a connection far deeper than I intended. The process was... invasive, to say the least. It is likely for the best that you have no recollection of the experience." Kirk bites his tongue and resists the urge to interrupt again, forces himself silent as Spock continues, "My intention was to sever the link when I terminated the meld."

"But you didn't," Kirk guesses, starting to understand where this is going. Spock inclines his head in confirmation.

"I did not realize until later that a connection remained between us, despite my efforts to effect a clean break."

"That's it?" Kirk gapes openly. "That's the problem? Spock, why didn't you just _tell_ me? You couldn't have thought I'd be angry."

"I intended to remedy the situation before it became necessary to trouble you. It did not occur to me that you might already be aware."

"And if you had realized?"

"I'd have told you from the start," Spock concedes. "The point is academic, however. I would soon have had to inform you in any case. My attempts to sever the connection unilaterally have been entirely unsuccessful." 

"You mean it's permanent?" Kirk thinks he should be more bothered by the possibility, but he actually feels pretty good about it. The feeling is short lived, as Spock shakes his head in the negative.

"I mean only that another mind meld will be necessary."

"You're saying you have to go back into my head to fix this."

"Indeed."

"But... _do_ you have to? Fix it, I mean?" Spock's eyebrow rises again, higher this time, and Kirk scrambles, "I'm serious! I mean okay, maybe it's not always the _most_ convenient, but if it weren't for this connection you're talking about I'd probably be dead right now." 

"Jim." Spock's tone is even and cool and not even a little bit cajoling. "What you are proposing is impractical at best, dangerous at worst. At present, we don't know the nature or depth of the psychic connection I have left open between us."

"Come on, Spock. I think I'd _know_ if you were damaging me with a telepathic mind probe."

"As a member of a psi-null species, you would almost certainly not."

"I can feel _you_ ," Kirk retorts, sounding more petulant than he wants to admit.

His point gives Spock pause, but only for an instant.

"Captain," he says, and it's enough. Kirk sighs, knowing he couldn't win this debate even if he understood what they were fighting about. As it is he has even less room to maneuver, and no choice but to concede to the actual telepath in the room.

"Fine." He pushes up from the edge of his bed and drops onto the couch beside Spock. He lands closer than he means to and turns to face Spock, a resigned slump in his shoulders. "Go on, then. Let's get this over with." 

Spock moves without hesitation, raising one hand to Kirk's face, fingertips pressing firmly in a way that's almost become familiar. Kirk has the barest sense of Spock slipping inside, Spock's mind moving so cautiously Kirk can barely feel him. In all the times Spock has been in his mind, he's never been this _careful_ , and Kirk honestly doesn't know what to make of it. For one thing, he's not sure he should be able to tell that's what Spock is doing. For another it's disconcerting, knowing Spock is rooting around in his brain, but not being able to feel _Spock_ in return. 

Maybe it's necessary. That doesn't mean Kirk has to like it.

Long moments pass, silent and still. Kirk knows Spock is slipping deep and deeper, can feel the rustle of unfamiliar sensation touching him somewhere impossibly intimate. He can't find a word to describe it, though the sensation is vivid and discomfiting. Spock's own mind remains guarded, a barely discernible entity, even as Kirk feels himself opened and explored, down to his very soul.

He wonders if he should feel violated. Telepath or not, Kirk can tell this isn't right—this isn't somewhere anyone should be able to touch him—and he wonders what it means that _Spock_ is there, present and undeniable, and Kirk... doesn't mind. 

He doesn't mind even a little.

Closely as Spock has been guarding his own thoughts—his own feelings—Kirk physically jolts when a surge of shocked disbelief ripples through him. Spock withdraws too quickly, still careful but jarring in his absence, and Kirk finds himself gasping as he becomes aware of his body again. He blinks in confusion as Spock's touch falls away from his face.

Spock's expression is as smooth and collected as always, but Kirk isn't fooled for a second.

"What did you find?" 

Spock is silent, and for an instant Kirk glimpses a stunned look flashing behind his eyes.

"Spock, what's wrong?"

Another beat of silence, and Kirk can't decide if he should be terrified. Spock in his head... nothing about that felt _wrong_ , and it's hard to imagine Spock found evidence of harm while he was rooting around in there. 

But Spock still isn't answering, and Kirk can count on one hand the number of times he's seen Spock at a loss for words.

"Captain." Spock's voice is steady when he finally speaks. "I apologize. It appears I have made a grievous miscalculation." 

"You can't undo it?"

"I cannot. To sever this link will require the intervention of a skilled telepathic intermediary." Spock pauses, and Kirk doesn't understand—that can't be _guilt_ he's catching in Spock's eyes, or feeling in his chest for that matter. What can Spock have to feel guilty about? "Forgive me, Jim. I confess, I do not know how this is possible."

"How _what_ is possible?" Frustration bubbles beneath Kirk's skin, and he balls his hands into fists, presses them down against his thighs to keep from touching when he shouldn't. "Spock, talk to me. You've got to give me more to work with here."

"This goes well beyond an inadvertent psychic connection." Spock breaks eye contact, something he damn well never does, and Kirk stares in open incredulity as Spock continues, "It is a specific, and far more intimate bond." 

"Spock—"

"Less than a marriage, but more than a betrothal," Spock says in a voice that sounds rote and detached. 

Kirk's mouth snaps shut as the words register and sink in. He knows precisely squat about Vulcan marriages—hard to fathom how marriage works for a people who eschew all emotion—but he's pretty sure Spock didn't mean to propose to him just now. Unfortunately, he's not sure how else to take the words that just came out of Spock's mouth.

"You're saying we're... engaged?" This is the most surreal conversation Kirk has ever had, and he's had some weird ones—that time with the vaporous purple ice clouds comes to mind. He's having a tougher time wrapping his head around this one.

"In a sense." At least Spock is looking at him again, expression bland but eyes dark. "We must visit the Vulcan colony as soon as possible."

"Why the rush?" Kirk hedges, despite wiser instincts screaming at him to shut up and agree. He can't see the harm in something that's saved his life at least once—or maybe it's got more to do with the fact that having Spock in his head feels all right. Better than all right. Feels like something he could maybe get used to.

"Jim." Spock locks him with a patient but determined look. "Consider what you are saying. You cannot wish for us to remain this way." 

"Well, no," Kirk says and pretends it's not a lie. "Not forever anyway. It's not like you're actually asking me to marry you, and I'd shoot you down cold if you tried. I know we'll have to sort this out eventually, but... why _now_?"

"The bond that subsists between us now is not a static entity. It will neither hold steady nor fade. It will only grow with time and proximity. And there may be other... practical considerations."

"Like what?" 

"Irrelevant," Spock evades smoothly, "as we will remedy the situation before they become an issue."

"No way. After the bombshell you just dropped on me, you do _not_ get to go back to not telling me stuff. I'm the captain. There are things I need to know."

Spock at least has the kindness to look apologetic when he says, "Not this. I'm sorry, Jim. It is not something to be discussed lightly, and once the bond has been severed it will not matter." 

"I hate it when you're cryptic."

"You will forgive me as you always do." Spock knows him too well, and Kirk flops against the back of the couch with a sigh. He won't be able to hold a grudge, and whatever it is Spock is so reluctant to tell him, he won't be able to wheedle it out of his first officer no matter how hard he tries. 

"Are we okay?" Kirk asks. "At least... for now?"

Spock barely hesitates before answering, "Yes."

The fact that he doesn't quibble over the definition of 'okay' should be worrying, but Kirk finds he's suddenly too exhausted to care.


End file.
